“Eden did it, too,” she sobbed softly. “Is she … Does he … have her now?”
Tod nodded and let her go, then wrapped his arms around her when she collapsed against him. “They didn’t tell us that. About the torture.” She sniffled against his shoulder. “They just said humans don’t need their souls, and that if we sold ours, we could have everything. Everything.” She shook silently, then stepped back to look at him, eyes flashing with terror and indignation. Delirium, maybe. “He said we don’t need souls!”
“You don’t need them to keep you alive,” Nash said softly. “Demon’s Breath will do that just as well. But while a hellion has your soul, you can’t move on. You’ll be stuck there, a plaything for whoever owns you.”
“You have to get it back, Addison,” I ventured, hugging myself in horror. I hadn’t known much about hellions, either. “You have to get your soul back, with this … out-clause.” Whatever that was.
Addison eyed Tod fiercely, clutching at his arms. “Help me!” she begged softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You have to help me. Please!” She glanced over his shoulder at me and Nash. “All of you, please!”
I had no idea what to say, but Tod nodded. “Of course we will.”
Nash went stiff at my side, but before he could protest, more shouting came from the hallway.
“Okay, break it down!” the stage mother called, and Addison glanced around frantically, probably looking for somewhere to hide us.
“Wait, I’m coming!” she shouted. “Here,” she whispered, pulling me toward the door by my arm. Nash followed, and she pressed us against the wall behind the door, so we’d be hidden when it opened. She tried to pull Tod into line with us, but he only smiled and shook his head.
“I can hide myself.” He forced a smile, and Addy nodded, wiping tears from her face with her bare hands.
“Oh, yeah.” She hesitated, then glanced at the door again. “Just a minute, Mom!” Then she turned to Tod and whispered, “I’m staying at the Adolphus, as Lisa Hawthorne. Call me tomorrow night and I’ll sneak you guys up. Please?”
Tod nodded, but his smile was grimmer than I’d ever seen it. “I’ll call you at eight.”
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
Tod winked at me and Nash, then blinked out of sight. Addy pressed one finger to her mouth in the world-wide signal for “shhhh,” then unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Mom! Are you okay? What happened?” Shoes brushed the carpet as she ushered her mother to the bathroom, but all I could see was the back of the door, an inch from my nose. Nash’s hand curled around mine, and our pulses raced together.
“I didn’t expect your door to be locked,” her mother snapped as water ran, and I couldn’t resist a grin. “Addy, you look like a tomato. Have you been crying?”
“I’m just worried about Eden. Hurry and get cleaned up so we can go.” More footsteps brushed toward us, and Addy called out, “Roger, can you go get some wet rags or something?”
“Sure, Ms. Page,” a deep voice said from outside the room. Heavy footsteps headed away, and Addy swung the door open, signaling the all clear.
I spared her one last, sympathetic smile, then Nash tugged me into the hall, still blessedly deserted.
We speed-walked through the maze of hallways, through the empty auditorium, and out to the half-empty parking lot, where Tod leaned against the closed passenger door of their mother’s car.
Nash’s hand went stiff in mine the moment he saw the reaper, and Tod had his hands up to ward off his brother’s anger long before we got within hearing distance. “What was I supposed to do?” he asked, before either of us could get a word out.
“Not my problem!” Nash tried to shove Tod out of the way so he could unlock my door, but the reaper went non-corporeal at the last second, and Nash went right through him. His shoulder slammed into the car just above the window, and when he turned, anger blazed in his swirling eyes. “You could have done anything! Except tell her we’d get her soul back for her.”
He pulled open the passenger side door and shoved it closed when I was settled in my seat and was still yelling when he opened his own door. “How are we supposed to do that? Wander around the Netherworld asking random hellions if they took possession of a human pop star’s soul, and if so, would they please consider giving it back out of the kindness of their decayed hearts?”
Nash slid into his seat and slammed the door, leaving Tod alone in the dark parking lot with a handful of humans now watching us warily. He turned the key in the ignition, shifted into Drive, then took off across the asphalt, headed toward the exit with his parking receipt already in one fist.
As soon as we turned out of the lot, something caught my eye from the side-view mirror and I twisted in my seat to see Tod staring back at me, his usual scowl unusually fierce. “Don’t do that!” I said, for at least the thousandth time since we’d met. “Normal people don’t get in the car while it’s still moving!”
Nash glared at him in the rearview mirror. “But as long as you’re here, you need to understand something, and I’m only going to say this once—we are not tracking down Addison Page’s soul. It’s not our responsibility, and we wouldn’t even know where to start. But most important, it’s—too. Damn. Dangerous.”
“Fine,” Tod said through teeth clenched with either fear or anger. Or both.
“What?” Nash stopped for a red light and glanced in the mirror again, his brows low in confusion. He’d obviously expected an argument, as had I.
Tod shifted on the cloth seat, his corporeal clothes rustling with the movement. “I said fine. This is my problem, not yours. I’ll do it myself.”
“This isn’t your problem, either,” Nash insisted, and I turned in my seat again so I could see them both at once. “She sold her soul of her own free will for fame and fortune. The contract is legally binding, and it has a legally binding out-clause. Let her get it back herself.” He stomped on the gas when the light changed, and the tires squealed beneath us as I grabbed the armrest.
“She didn’t know what she was doing, Nash, and she still doesn’t.” Tod leaned forward, glaring into the rearview mirror. “She has no idea what rights she has in the Netherworld, and she can’t even get there on her own. The out-clause is no good if you can’t enforce it. You know that.”
“Wait …” I loosened my seat belt and found a more comfortable sideways position as dread twisted my stomach into knots a scout couldn’t untie. “She really can’t do this on her own?”
Tod shook his head. “She doesn’t stand a chance.”
I sighed and sank back into my seat.
Nash glanced away from the road long enough to read my expression, shadows shifting over his face as we drove under a series of streetlights. “No, Kaylee. We can’t. We could get killed.”
“I know.” I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the headrest. “I know.”
“No!” he repeated, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched in either fear or anger. Probably both.
“Nash, we have to. I have to, anyway.” I stared at his profile, desperate for the words to make him understand. “I couldn’t save the souls Aunt Val sold. Heidi, and Alyson, and Meredith, and Julie are going to be tortured forever, because I couldn’t save them.” My throat felt thick, and my voice cracked as tears burned my eyes.
“Kaylee, that’s not your fau—”
“I know, but, Nash, I can help Addison. I can stop the same thing from happening to her.” I wasn’t sure how, but Tod wouldn’t have offered our help if there was nothing we could do. Right?